Restaurant reviews by Justin Tanner, our retired food critic, who feels cheated there are no asylum seeker hotels nearby for him to get angry about.

NOTHING can be as nature intended these days. Women who think they’re men. Men who think they’re women. The ‘gender neutral’ lot who claim to be neither when a quick look in their pants would clear it up once and for all. 

Now, to my horror, this unfathomable love of confusion has spread into the sacred world of global cuisine. Like the latest culinary craze, Indo-Chinese. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good curry as much as I adore a decent Chinky. But are they really suitable bedfellows? Would you try and cross a cat with a bloody dog? Exactly. Although it’s only a matter of time before some woke idiot decides we should have hybrid pets who self-identify as ‘cadogs’.

One such restaurant recently opened nearby, so I decide to see for myself. They’re very welcoming, and tell me one of their chefs is actually Mongolian. Didn’t think you were allowed to call people that nowadays, but maybe I’m just more politically correct than the average Joe.

Apparently it all started with Indians crossing into China and imposing their own culinary styles on the locals. At least it’s not just Britain that has to put up with foreigners ruining our traditions. That’s some consolation.

But as expected, the menu is a load of dithering fence-sitting which won’t decide what it is. Take the confused starters. Peri-peri chicken wings. I thought peri-peri was from Portugal? Nepalese bhuteko masu, which is baby lamb cooked with onion, tomato, mustard seeds and curry leaves. A whole baby lamb for starters? Who’s the target clientele here, werewolves? 

I’ve no idea why you’d want tandoori salmon, so I wisely skip to the ‘Chef’s Special Indo-Chinese’ section. There’s Manchurian chicken, so it looks like Manchester is another culinary influence. The idea of crispy fried chicken in soy and chilli sauce briefly appeals, but I continue to explore. 

Not that I should have bothered. There’s pork momo, minced pork with a sesame tomato dip. Whatever. And special Manchurian noodles, which I think is just noodles in curry sauce. They’ve clearly not done their homework because Golden Wonder have already nailed that market over here. Typical lazy foreigners.

Then there’s a variety of dishes called ‘Hakka’, which are again cooked with chilli and soy sauce, and, most bizarre of all, sheek kebab puree, which sounds like Indian baby food.

Finally I opt for ‘Chicken Tak-A-Tak’, marinated chicken breast in tomato and ginger sauce which, reassuringly, comes with plain boiled rice. It’s not too bad to be fair, even if sounds like a game you used to play at school in break time.

I finish my meal and leave for the sanity of the Spoons down the road. As I sup my first Stella I wish I’d avoided all that faff and and come here for a straightforward burger or pizza. Proof, if it were needed, that when it comes to food, you can’t beat British.